My words make her shiver, but she nods against my hands, her eyes heavy-lidded and dazed as she gazes up at me.
I lean in, careful to do this right, and think that this Riffin is a fool. Bee's cunt smells so beautifully that it is making my mouth water. How did he fail to pay attention to her small signals? She does not know how to ask for pleasure—is not even sure she wants to ask—but she still enjoys it. I tilt my head, careful to slant my mouth over hers the way she showed me, and slick my tongue into her mouth again.
Later, when I have time to go over every detail, I will revel in her taste and how her mouth feels. For now, it is all about Bee and her responses. How I can make her cunt wet and dripping with need. How I can make her squirm on my leg until she is panting aloud and clinging to me, demanding more kisses.
I stroke my tongue against hers experimentally. Mine feels so much larger than hers that I worry about choking her with my enthusiasm. I keep my movements light and teasing, dipping my tongue against hers in toying motions that promise more without overwhelming. Her taste and scent are everywhere, and when she makes a soft, whimpering sound against my conquering mouth, I want to shout to the skies with triumph.
I am a champion kisser, after all.
17
BEE
I lie on the narrow bed that night and touch my mouth, my thoughts whirling.
It didn't take long for Victor to make a liar out of me. Jesus. That kiss was…intense. Actually I don't even know if I can call it a kiss, because it was more of a make-out session and the kissing was just an afterthought. It was like he was utterly focused on my pleasure, on how to use his tongue on me. His hands were everywhere, and he touched me and studied me so thoroughly that I was practically flinging myself at him by the time he finally truly tongue-kissed me.
It was…intense. Achingly sweet, oh-so-careful, and so good that hours later I'm still thinking about it.
I squeeze my thighs together in the bed, because my pulse is pounding between them. I'm clothed now, but that doesn't stop the barrage of emotions racing through me. I might as well be naked and touching myself, because I don't think I could be any more turned on. After we broke apart from the kiss, I babbled a million excuses as to why I needed to escape, and practically flung myself off his lap and raced away to the far end of the house. I'm pretty sure if Victor could purr, he'd be purring in that moment. I've never seen a guy look so damn satisfied with himself.
I'm also pretty sure he could smell how turned on I was. He smells everything.
So I spent the rest of the evening racing around the house, putting things away, drying our clothes (mine first) and then making a list of things we needed. Victor needs more clothes, I need more clothes, we need food, a bed for him…the list goes on and on.
As if he sensed I needed space, Victor kept to himself, poking around at the house and the grounds, checking out everything possible. I blushed all through our protein bar dinner, and after that, feigned tiredness. He insisted I take the bed and I did, but I've been laying here for hours, unable to sleep. There's no blanket to curl up in—the pillow's still on Victor's “chair” and since he can't take the bed, I insisted he take the blanket. I feel guilty that I'm the one with the comfortable spot, but the truth is, I'm not that comfortable at all.
I'm restless, and for what might be the first time in years, I'm completely and utterly horny and I don't know what to do with that. I put a hand on my belly and then move it lower, testing the waters. It feels good and none of the awful memories surface, so I move a bit lower, cupping my mound through my pants.
A new thought occurs to me—if I touch myself, is Victor going to hear me get off?
As if burned, I snatch my hand away. I turn on my side, tuck an arm under my head, and stare at the wall as I try to go to sleep.
New, fresh guilt surges through me when I wake up in the morning to find Victor curled up on the hard floor. It looks uncomfortable, but one of his spikes has already pierced through the blanket, and I remind myself that if he destroys all of our furniture, we'll be worse off. Still, it's hard. I want him to have nice things, and that includes a real chair and a bed. I move to the comm unit and quietly whisper my list of things so Herrix and Akris can acquire them, and I emphasize that we need them today. When I'm done, I turn around and Victor is watching me, his eyes heavy, relaxed slits.
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I can't send them a written list. They don't read English and I don't read Homeworld." I give him a cheery smile. "Want breakfast?"
"You smell good," he says, a languid note in his voice.
A hot blush creeps through me. So much for keeping things at a “friend” level. We both know what he's referring to when he mentions my scent. I decide to ignore it, turning towards the counters and where I put away the food. "I can fire something up in the processor, or we can eat more protein bars. I'm not a huge fan of the food supplies that they gave us, so I've asked the guards to bring in some other options. You've probably got a fierce metabolism and need a lot of food." My senses prick as I pick up a mug, and when I turn around, he gets to his feet and stretches, all feline grace despite the spikes and claws. He stalks toward me and I clutch the mug against my chest. "If there's anything in particular you want to eat, just let me know…"
Victor sidles toward me, and there's a hungry look in his eyes as he places one big hand on the counter behind me, leaning in. "I've thought of my new prize."
I stare up at him, flustered by his nearness. I keep thinking about how he'd kissed me last night, as if my pleasure was the only thing important to him. How he'd cupped my face and tasted my mouth so sweetly, and how he'd run his hands all over my body just because he liked touching me. I'd throbbed with awareness last night, and it had taken forever for me to fall asleep. That awareness is back this morning, curling through me and making everything in my body race. "New…prize?"
He nods. "A champion must have a prize, after all."
"Right. Of course." It's hard for me to think when he's so close. When he looks so smugly satisfied with himself. It's the same smug expression he was wearing last night after we kissed, when I knew he could smell just how turned on I was. That arousal is flaring through me again, as I imagine what his next demand is. "W-what did you have in mind?"
"I am thinking…more immediate goals." His other hand goes to the counter, and I'm neatly trapped under him.
Is he going to demand a kiss right now? Because…I don't think I'd hate that. Not in the slightest.
"Every day of good behavior, of learning and obeying these rules of society, I will want my prize. A kiss every night." He gives me another self-satisfied smile. "What do you say to that?"
Part of me is a little disappointed he's not asking for more than a kiss, but that's my imagination racing away with me. Even so, a daily kiss is going to be…a lot. It'll mean sitting on his lap every night and tonguing each other and his hands all over me and I'm getting turned on just thinking about it. "I think that's manageable." I glance toward the door, biting my lip. "We should probably keep it secret from the guards though. If they think I'm here with you just for kissing, they might separate us and give you a new teacher."